Blood and Fire

Dense black clouds shrouded the moon, casting the entire village into an abyss of darkness. The air was stifling, thick with an eerie silence—an oppressive calm before the coming storm.

Elvin reclined on the wooden chair outside his home, eyes half-closed, lost in thought.

"If you truly wish to grow stronger... one day, you'll have to leave this place."

His father's words echoed in his mind, stirring unease in his heart. Leaving meant parting ways with his parents, abandoning them to live in solitude.

He had always known he was different from the others in the village. Though diligent and strong, his build was lean—yet, inexplicably, he outmatched even the most robust youths. More strikingly, his eyes were a deep, star-speckled blue, reminiscent of the night sky—a color unseen in the village, not even in his parents' eyes.

Elvin lowered his gaze to his calloused hands, roughened by years of labor. The traces of wood shavings between his fingers, the hardened skin—these were the marks of his belonging.

"This is my home, my family, my place... isn't it?"

He whispered the question to himself, yet, for the first time, he found no certainty in his answer.

Then—

BOOM!

A deafening explosion shattered the night's stillness.

Elvin's eyes snapped open, his pupils constricting as he jolted upright.

At the village's edge, a furious blaze erupted into the sky, thick smoke billowing as agonized screams and the clash of steel tore through the night.

The slaughter had begun.

"What's happening?!"

His heart pounded. Before he could fully grasp the horror, the door behind him burst open. Garen and Martha stumbled out.

"Elvin!" Garen's voice carried an urgency unlike ever before. He gripped a rusted iron sword, his tone grim. "The Tyrants are here. We have to run!"

The Massacre

The streets of Isa Village were bathed in firelight, the scent of blood and scorched earth thick in the air.

Clad in black robes and iron masks, the Tyrants' assassins moved like shadows, their insignia—a crimson sword piercing a circle—standing stark against their dark attire. They cut down all in their path, sparing neither man, woman, nor child. The villagers' screams wove a dreadful symphony with the clash of steel.

"Please, don't kill me!"

Jack fell to the ground, trembling. Desperately, he raised his hoe in defense, but the assassin before him had already read his intent. In the blink of an eye, a cold gleam flashed, and his severed head thudded onto the blood-drenched earth, scarlet gushing like an unstaunched wound.

Not far away, Peter—the once-proud boy who boasted of his weapon skills—clutched his dagger with quivering hands. Bodies of fallen villagers surrounded him, and before him, a masked killer advanced, eyes devoid of emotion.

"N-no… stay back!" Peter's voice cracked. He swung his dagger wildly, a futile attempt to ward off his impending doom. But before he could even react, the assassin had already closed the distance. A blade pierced his chest.

"Gah—!" Blood bubbled from Peter's lips. His dagger slipped from numb fingers, his body convulsing once before falling still.

Elvin stumbled forward, his breath shallow as he took in the nightmare unfolding before him. His home—his people—were being reduced to nothing but corpses and cinders.

It was all too sudden.

"Run!"

Garen's roar snapped Elwin back to reality. He seized Elvin's wrist and dragged him toward the village outskirts. Martha followed closely, fear gleaming in her eyes. Like Elwin, she loathed leaving everything behind—but they had no choice. They had to escape.

"No—we can't just abandon everyone!"

Elvin struggled, trying to turn back, but Garen's grip was unyielding, like iron shackles.

"Don't look back!" Garen's voice thundered. "You can't fight them. Right now, survival is all that matters!"

The word sliced through Elwin like a blade.

He could not refute it—because Garen was right.

Against these killers, he was powerless. Only by living could he one day take vengeance.

A shattering helplessness tore through him.

But fate is never so merciful.

Just as they neared the village's edge, a shadow lunged from the side. A dagger, gleaming with cold intent, plunged deep into Garen's abdomen.

"Ngh—!"

Garen's steps faltered, his body wracked with tremors as blood seeped through his tunic. Yet, he remained standing—a shield between the assassin and the others.

"No—!"

Elvin's pupils constricted. He reached for Garen—

But in the next instant, the Tyrant's assassin drew his longsword and, with a swift arc, severed Garen's head.

Blood splattered across Elwin's face—warm, searing, blinding.

Rage consumed him. He wanted nothing more than to lunge at the killer and tear him apart.

Martha let out a broken scream, her hands clutching Elvin, her grip trembling. "Elvin, run! Don't let your father's sacrifice be in vain!"

The assassin advanced, slow and deliberate. Martha knew—she and Elvin could not both escape.

Tears streamed down her pale cheeks as she whispered, her voice shaking, "Listen to me… you're not our biological son."

Elvin's world caved in. His mind went blank. His father had just been slain before him—and now, this truth.

"You… we found you in the forest when you were just a baby. Your origins… we don't know. But you are not ordinary. No matter what you are, we are your parents, and we love you."

She knew there was no time for both of them to flee. So, with all her strength, she shoved Elvin away—then turned and charged at the assassin, buying him the only thing that mattered. Time.

A sword impaled her chest. Blood trickled down her lips.

"Mother—!"

Elvin's world shattered. He fell to his knees, hands clutching at her robes, his tears blurring the sight of her fading smile.

"Go!" Martha's voice trembled. "Live… find the truth…"

Even in death, she clung to the assassin, keeping him from reaching Elvin until her body finally went still.

Elvin trembled from head to toe, but he did not hesitate. He crushed his grief, turned, and bolted down the path out of the village. His tears streamed unchecked as he ran.

He bit his lip, his heart howling with unrelenting fury.

"Tyrants… I will see you all burn."